Ghosts
by Kessie
Summary: "Christmas? Sentimental humbug!" Sherlock thought.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my Christmas treat for this year. You´ll get an update on each Sunday till Christmas and there´ll be an Epilogue on Christmas day itself. Hope you guys enjoy reading it. Comments and such are always welcome.**  
**Have a great December!**

**Ghosts**

**Authors:** Kessie  
**Characters/Pairings:** Sherlock, Sally, Mycroft. John, Anthea, Lestrade, OCs  
**Rating:** PG 13 I think  
**Status:** still writing  
**Warnings:** butchering of old Christmas classics.  
**Disclaimer:** Sherlock belongs to the BBC, ACD, Moffat and Gatiss. No copyright infringement intended.  
**Summary:** "Christmas? Sentimental humbug!" Sherlock thought.

####

"Damn it Sherlock! This is my flat as well, so I can bloody have a Christmas party if I want to. And I will. That´s the end of it!" John shouted, and with that he took his jacket and left for a walk to "cool off" like he said.

Sherlock just sighed. Why his flatmate insisted on these stupid traditions he would never understand. Christmas had been invented by the church anyway to manipulate the masses. Not to mention that father Christmas in his red attire had been produced by a beverage company for god´s sake. Yet most of the people still clung to these artificial figures and traditions as if they posed some kind of life line.

Sentimental humbug!

The rest of the day saw John not speaking to him until he left to meet his sister Harry for Christmas Eve.

"I wish you a nice Christmas Eve anyway, even if you don´t believe in it." John told him and then he was off, leaving Sherlock alone for the evening. With Mrs. Hudson gone at her sisters in Brighton, he had the whole house to himself now and he was glad about it.

So what if the idiots would celebrate this stupid festivity? He would make sure he did something useful with his time instead. With John gone for the evening until tomorrow he finally could get some important experiments done in peace.

He probably was the only one doing something useful on this day anyway.

With that thought he set to work. Finally, at a few minutes after eleven, he had everything set up. The experiment would need some time to work now and just in about an hour he got see the results. Satisfied with his work he sat down on the sofa.

#

Only as he woke up did he realize that he must have fallen asleep. Cursing himself for being so careless, even though he knew he hadn´t slept the last two nights due to a case, he was about to get up and check the experiment when he noticed that there was someone in the room with him. He shook his head, now he had been even more careless than he´d thought. Feigning sleep, Sherlock was just about to search for something which he could use as a weapon as the person, who was sitting in John´s chair spoke, making him freeze altogether.

"Hello Sherlock."

He shivered. No that couldn´t be, could it?

"Granny?" he pressed, then shook his head. "No, you´re dead." He closed his eyes and opened them again, but the person that looked exactly like Beth Holmes, was still there, no matter how many times he rubbed his eyes to take her away. "So you´re a dream. Or a nightmare. Probably due the fumes of the benzol I used in the latest..."

The woman, who looked like his granny, had gotten up now and was standing in front of him. "No, `m neither. I´m here to help you. And I`m the first of three, who are coming to visit you, Sherlock." She told him sternly.

But Sherlock wouldn´t have any of it. "An illusion then. Just like.."

The woman scowled at him and put her hands at her hips, just like she had done all those years ago when he done something bad as a little boy. "Sherlock!" she warned, and to his own surprise he sat still immediately and looked at her.

"Why is it always so hard to get you to listen?" She sighed, and then sat down next to him on the sofa. "I´m here to help you, as there is still a chance that you can be saved. But you have to listen, you hear me? The universe has been trying to tell you something for a while now, but you keep ignoring it."

Sherlock was stubborn though, and if she was surprised at his defiance she didn´t show it.

"I don´t need to be saved. I´m perfectly fine. What I need is to check my experiment and you need to leave me alone."

But before he could get up, she grabbed his hand. There was a white flash of light and only a moment later they were somewhere else altogether, which made Sherlock stop in his tracks once again.

"How is this possible?" he inquired, looking down the street which they were on now. Not only was there full light outside, it was snowing with full force now. "This is not Baker Street! Where are we? What?" He shook his head, paced a few steps and stopped again. "This is a dream. I simply have to wake up." More pacing before he was stopped by Beth´s arm.

"Sherlock!"

But the man continued to shake his head and ignore her. "How can I wake up? Maybe when I … ow!"

The pinch had hurt and he was rubbing his cheek now. "Do you think I could do this if this was a dream?"

"I.." A sigh. He tried to pinch himself, which led to more pain in his hand. "I don´t know. But where are we? And why are we here?"

Granny Beth just smiled. "You´ll see soon enough."

#

The small dark haired boy seemed completely determined when he looked around, only to then take the phone carefully. He started dialing, but never stopped looking behind himself, even as the call went through.

"I want to talk to Mycroft Holmes." The small voice inquired, and only a few moments later, the brother was put on the line.

"Sherlock, you know you shouldn´t call. You are distracting me. What if father finds out?" The older brother announced, but the smaller one didn´t seem to care.

"It´s Christmas, Mycroft. Happy Christmas, Mycroft!" he crooned and Mycroft sighed at the other end of the line.

"Happy Christmas to you, too, Sherlock. And I miss you as well, you know that. But you have to understand that I have to concentrate on my studies..."

It was this moment when a noise behind the little boy announced that someone had entered the room. And this someone, a man in his late forties, well dressed and impeccable in his behaviours and manners, was not amused.

"Sherlock!" he thundered, ripping the phone from the small boy´s hands. "What have I told you about distracting your brother?"

The small boy said nothing and didn´t even react to the slap that followed.

"Go to your room!" the man ordered and little Sherlock did as he was told.

It was not like he had a choice.

#

The older Sherlock had been puzzled at first, but recognised the scene immediately.

"Why did you bring me here?" he inquired. "I really didn´t need to see this again." He shook his head, reminding himself he had been a silly little child back then. He had known nothing of the world.

"Just watch and see." Beth told him, and there was another flash before Sherlock could even answer.

#

This time the brown haired boy was older. Sherlock guessed he had to be about fifteen or something like that, but it was hard to determine as lots of his teen year`s Christmasses had been similar. He had made it to Oxford at fifteen, so this was the earliest year possible.

The teen Sherlock was engrossed in a book, as suddenly the door opened and another boy, this one slightly older, close to nineteen, entered the room. Sherlock vaguely remembered he had been called Tom, but had probably deleted the last name. But that was all right as this boy wasn´t important anyway. From what he remembered of him he never would have amounted to much.

Nevertheless, said boy walked into the liberary and saw teen Sherlock sitting at the table.

"Oh, hi. I forgot to bring back a book." Tom explained, and put said book back at the shelf where it belonged, before turning to Sherlock again.

"So when are you leaving? What are you doing for Christmas?" he asked, obviously trying to make small talk, but earning only a glare from the other boy.

"I´ll be studying. As you should be as well, as you are close to failing physics." he declared and stuck his nose back into the books. "Go away!" he grumbled a second later when Tom was still there and then said boy was finally hurrying out of the room.

"Idiot." the older Sherlock announced and turned to Beth again, who was still watching with him. "So what exactly did you want to show me?"

Beth sighed. "Of course you wouldn´t see it. I should have known." Taking Sherlock by the hand she led him closer to his still-studying younger self.

Even though Sherlock now knew that the boy couldn´t see or hear them, he still felt weird watching himself like this.

"Do you think he is doing the right thing?" Beth asked. "Do you think your father did the right thing in the first scene, keeping you and Mycroft apart at Christmas of all times?"

Sherlock huffed. "Of course. I might not have seen it at 8, but here when I was at Oxford I knew he had done the right thing! Christmas is a sentimental waste of time and you know that. Without giving into such stupid urges I had more time for studying and became the first in my class."

Beth sighed again. "Yet it made you an outsider."

"So what? Being a genius makes me an outsider to begin with. I at least used all my resources. Its not like I was interested in the company of the other idiots anyway."

The old woman smiled at her grandson. "And that´s where you are lying. You would have loved to be with them. To belong. Yet you never tried because you were told not to."

"Your assumptions are completley unfounded. I was quite happy on my own." Sherlock countered quite harshly but Beth just shook her head.

"And the drugs you took were just for science, I know."

It was clear that Sherlock was now put off as he simply turned around and tried to leave the room. But as he went out of the room through the hallway door, he found himself in the same liberary once again.

"I know, Sherlock. You tried so hard to make your father happy. You wanted to be perfect for your mom and Mycroft didn´t know any better himself. But it was the wrong way. Remember when we celebrated Christmas together? That was never a waste of time, was it?"

Sherlock was ignoring her now, all but looking for an exit as Beth laid a hand on her grandson's shoulder. "I wished I could have changed it. Who knew that my death at Christmas would make your father so bitter that he wouldn´t let you and your brother celebrate it again? But I couldn´t have prevented it Sherlock. Nobody can, when their time has come."

Another flash and they were back at Baker Street.

Sherlock still looked skeptically at everything while his grandmother took the opportunity to embrace her grandson, which strangely he let happen even though he had no idea why " Listen to me Sherlock. You have been given the rare opportunity for a second chance. Use it. Learn and watch. The way you are going through life right now is the wrong way. You have to open yourself."

The grandson ignored her words though, leaving the old woman to sigh as she grew more and more transperent. "I´m sorry Sherlock. I have to say goodbye now. Take care of yourself, will you? And listen, there will be two more ghosts, showing the present and the future. Listen to them, will you? Please..." She didn´t get any further as she was gone.

Sherlock continued to stare at the place where she had stood for a few moments, but then shook his head. What a weird dream that had been.

Whatever. He really needed to check on his experiment now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

A cough from behind him stopped him once more. Surprised at another visitor at this time and day, he turned around, only to find himself looking at the very person he had least expected to see: Nicolas Holmes, his father, just like he remembered him shortly before the man´s death.

"Son." The man enquired and Sherlock just nodded, not sure what to say. Yet the man seemed to wait for a response. To say he´d been happy to see him would have been a lie, so he choose to stay silent.

After another awkward minute he seemed to sense that Sherlock wasn´t talking to him and went over to his son instead. "I have something to show you." He told him, before taking his son´s hand, as there was another flash, bringing them away from Baker Street.

#

Sherlock and Nicolas Holmes came to stand in a street, somewhere in London, as far as Sherlock could deduce. Still he had no idea where he actually was and had to look at the street sign to be sure. "Pembridge Crescent" Notting Hill. Just the street where John´s sister had moved with her girlfriend, a rather well known lawyer, recently.

Perfect.

When they moved towards the windows, Sherlock could already guess what he was going to see. And he was right.

Inside were Harry and John, both still eating their Christmas meals. Sherlock remembered that Harry´s significant other was away until tomorrow morning as she had a court case in Chicago, so they were alone. While Harry was happily babbeling about the latest holiday she had with her girlfriend, John´s thoughts seemed to wander. It wasn´t hard to tell as kept pushing around the food on his plate and stared off into space.

Therefore it took only about two minutes until Harry had enough.

"John?" she enquired, now louder than she had talked before, which succeeded in bringing John´s attention to her.

"Hm, what?"

"You are not listening to me. I can tell."

She held up her hands as he wanted to protest. "No. Stop. I can see there´s something on your mind. So whats up? Tell me, brother, damn it!"

John simply shook his head. "No, it´s nothing."

"Of course it´s something." She looked at him more closely, seemingly coming to a conclusion. "Ah I see. It has to do with him again, has it? How has he upset you this time? What did he do?"

Now it was John who held up his hands. "Sherlock hasn´t.." he started but Harry wouldn´t have it.

"Sherlock hasn´t? Oh for fucks sake John, he never has done anything." She spat. "You know you finally have to see that he just doesn´t care. It would be so much better if you start to build up your own life. You know, find a nice woman, get a few more friends. Simply do something other than just following him around."

Again John seemed to want to object, but Harry went on. "No, I don´t forbid you to hang out with him, that would be silly. Can´t you just... it´s like he´s been draining you all this time and you don´t see it. He never gives anything back, he just seems to take from you."

"But..." John started.

"No but, John. I know he´s a genius and all, but doesn´t make it better, it makes it worse. Don´t tell me he actually doesn´t see that he´s hurting you and all these other people he insults on a daily basis. He knows, I´m sure of it. So back off a little, please? I can´t stand to watch you like this."

John just sighed. "I... I don´t know. He doesn´t mean it. Not always. I just don´t know."

Sherlock who was watching the exchange from outside the window sighed. He could see that John was actually thinking about Harry´s words and he didn´t like it. He wasn´t that bad towards John, was he? Okay, so he didn´t always sugarcoat things but...

"No, she is right, son. You don´t always treat him with respect." his father said than and Sherlock looked at him, surprised.

"I´m just doing the right thing" he told Nicolas defensivly and Nicolas nodded.

"Yes. And John will do the same."

Without waiting for his sons answer he took his hand again, and there was another flash.

#

This time they came to stand on a bridge close to the London Docks. Since it was dark now, the time had definitely changed. Were they still in the same year? Sherlock wasn´t sure. Maybe they had gone back in time again? He still had problems to wrap his head around this. Time travel shouldn´t be possible.

And yet he was here.

"No, we are still in the present. I´m just going to show you someone else. Look." the older man pointed to the railing of the bridge and it took a few moments until he saw her. There in the in the half dark of the weak bridge lights was Sally Donovan.

Sherlock groaned. "So you want me to be less hard on her as well?" he enquired and Nicolas Holmes laughed.

"No, that would be your call. I´m just here to make sure you watch. And use that big head of yours."

And Sherlock watched. Sally was staring across the water, seemingly lost in thought, while she huddled into her thin jacket for warmth. From the dresscode she looked like she was going out, but Sherlock doubted that she actually wanted to. It seemed to be some kind of masquerade.

"What is she doing here?" Sherlock asked then, more himself then Nicolas, but his father smiled at him through the dark.

"Oh come on, you can deduce that, can't you? It isn´t all that hard. What´s the case that..."

He didn´t get any further as Sherlock was already interrupting him. "The Docks cases, of course! The serial killer which is now famously called "The modern Jack the Ripper" as he picks up whores, homeless and other lost women aorund the Thamse and murders them brutally, only to leave them near the water. Even I wasn´t able to get much information about him yet, lots of contradictions."

He looked at Nicolas as if he was expecting some kind of praise for the deduction, but his father wasn´t saying anything. So Sherlock´s gaze went back to Sally again.

"But why would she come here? Alone even, without back up?" Somehow this seemed to make Sherlock uncomfortable.

Something was not right.

"Oh I see, she thinks she has to prove herself after everything that happend after I jumped. And if she solves this case on her own that will prove her worth again. That´s stupid Donovan!" he told her even though she couldn´t hear him.

When he turned to his father again, he found Nicolas looking at him. "You don´t like her here, do you?" the older men asked him.

Sherlock snorted. "As if i´d care what happens to her. She ´s one of the Yard´s idiots."

"And yet you keep working with her, Lestrade and Anderson."

Another snort. "Only because they give me cases."

Nicolas Holmes just shook his head. "Really? Cause I seem to remember two other DI´s who would give you cases. And other teams. The sergeant of Miller´s team for example, Samson was it? He seem to be a real fan of yours!"

Sherlock grimaced. "A bootlicker more like."

"Hm, so why do keep coming back to them then?" Nicolas teased, but before Sherlock could even answer, Donovan was attacked from out of the dark. The "No!" Sherlock shouted wasn´t even heard by him, as he watched Donovan trying to get leverage against the bigger attacker, without much success. Just about as she was getting some leeway, another man appeared.

"Oh, I had no idea there´d be two." Sherlock whispered, eyes still on the scene. "But it makes sense. The contradictions ..."

The gurgled, painful scream from Donovan was what made him stop. In the weak light of the lamps he could see her eyes staring up at him, while the men were starting to undress her.

They were cold and dead, looking at him as if accusing him and yet Sherlock couldn´t look away.

He was rather happy though, as another flash happened and he suddenly went away from it all.

#

It took a few moments to realize that he was back at Baker Street again. The scene had left him slightly shaken, although he´d never admit that to anyone. He was rather still surprised of it himself.

A turn to the right told him that Nicolas Holmes, his father, already dead for five years then, was still with him. Sherlock found he couldn´t care less for the man. After all he himself had taught the consulting detective, that attachments were a waste of time.

So Sherlock didn´t waste time and chose to ignore him, while he sat down onto the sofa, contemplating.

"I see you are beginning to learn, son. Don´t make the same mistakes as me." Nicolas warned from behind him, yet Sherlock didn´t bother to answer. Instead, he rather willed the awful man away, not liking the memories he produced. And with that said man slowly disintegrated into thin air, just as Grandma Beth had done before.

Alone once more, Sherlock didn´t bother to check the experiment this time.

"It was just a dream." he told himself, again and again.

It didn´t even sound convincing to himself.

#################

More next week. Hope everyone is having a great December!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

It didn´t take long until Sherlock heard someone again. As he turned around to find out who the third ghost would be, he nearly did loose his footing.

"Oh Sherly. Not happy to see me, I guess?" The man teased and Sherlock was close to jumping him.

Jim Moriarty.

In his kitchen.

Damn it, the man was dead. And he had been really glad that had been rid of him to be honest. But here he was, as one of his visions? Or his warnings? Or nightmares, Sherlock still wasn´t sure what they were, but he was clear that he didn´t like this one bit.

"What do you want?" he asked then, causing Moriarty to smirk.

"Ah Sherlock, you already know that don´t you? I´m here to show you what´s going to happen if you don´t try to change and became a good, well behaved boy."

Sherlock snorted at that. Moriarty showing him what he was apparantly doing wrong in life? Was he supposed to become a serial killer?

"Anyway, we have to go now. Not much time left. So shoo. Give me your hand." With that Jim Moriarty actually lunged at him to grab his hand, and a second later there was another flash and Baker street 221b was left alone once more.

#

The bedsit was still quite dark, although one could see the daylight shining through half drawn drapes. It didn´t take Sherlock long to make out John though, as the room wasn´t very big. Except for the small bed there was only a table with a chair and a small cupboard and nothing more. The barest necessities. The bathroom was probably outside in the hall, he deduced and walked over to the man, who was sitting on the small bed, staring into nothingness.

Trying to touch John he sighed, as his hand went through the man, and watched as the Doctor got up and opened a drawer from the cupboard.

Moriarty was still behind him, smiling. "Oh Sherlock, you know the rules. Just watch, no touch." he teased with great glee, as he could probably tell that Sherlock was close to loosing it.

Yet Sherlock ignored him and turned back to John again, who had gotten something from the drawer and was on his way towards the bed once more. Sherlock froze as he saw that it was John´s gun. He had already guessed what was going to happen by John´s demanour, but seeing it like this?

Having no other choice he had to watch as John raised the gun and aimed it towards his own head. It was an eerie scene as he seemed to be on autopilot, not even twitching or showing any kind of emotion as he did it.

"What the hell happened to him?" Sherlock demanded and Moriarty laughed.

"You happened, Sherlock. What else?"

The shot rang through the silence like a roar breaking Sherlock´s world, but only a second later there was another flash and the two were gone.

#

"Why did you..? What..? Is he dead?" Sherlock asked as he could see again, still shaken by the last scene. Moriarty was smiling at him, all amused.

"Oh well let´s see, a gun to his head. A shot. Um yes. Unless the little doctor is immortal and you haven´t told me about that."

Sherlock actually growled at him, but didn´t say anything.

"Guess not then." Moriarty shrugged his shoulders, while Sherlock finally started to take in his surroundings. They were on one of London´s big cemeteries, Sherlock couldn´t really tell which, as all he could see was snow covered graves, row by row.

"A cemetary?" He asked but Moriarty just grimaced at him happily.

"What can I say? My choice would have been a torture chamber and two hours alone with you, but a dead man can´t have everything, can he?"

Sherlock was just about to give a retort as his eye caught up with a familar man. He choose to ignore Moriarty and went after this man instead, who was limping through the rows of graves towards a destination Sherlock for once had no idea of.

Hell, it had taken him a few moments until he had recognised Lestrade, who was nearly completly grey now. The clothes he was wearing looked old and unwashed and his hair and beard hadn´t seen a barber for some time either. Sherlock couldn´t smell it, but as drunk as he seemed, Lestrade probably stank of booze. If he hadn´t known Lestrade he would have thought him to be homeless, but even though he looked like it, he could tell that Lestrade wasn´t living on the streets.

Or at least not yet.

He followed Greg Lestrade until he stopped in front of a grave and shuddered a bit involontarily as he saw it was Sally´s.

"I´m sorry, Sal. I should have known." Lestrade rasped and touched the gravestone gently, before he simply stood there, seemingly lost in thought.

Sherlock felt strange watching this, while Moriarty, who had followed them as well, seemed amused.

"Aww isn´t it tragic? The two lovers? She the good sergeant, who would have never even tried to chat up a superior. Although she never thought herself to be good enough for him anyway." He smirked and picked a snow covered flower from Sally´s grave, which produced a glare from Sherlock. Of course Moriarty didn´t seemed to care. "And him, who thought himself too old and unfit for her, so he never told her as well. Instead she let herself be used by a married man who didn´t even had an ounce of respect towards her or his wife. Well, the tragedies life writes." Moriarty mocked and Sherlock surprised himself by getting annoyed by this.

"I told her Anderson wasn´t good for her." he grumbled and Moriarty laughed again.

"You outed her affair to all of Scotland Yard. She didn´t take it as friendly advice, I imagine."

Sherlock wanted to retort something, but somehow he couldn´t. Instead he followed Lestrade as the man started moving again.

This time it didn´t take long as the next grave was only two rows further.

"You are an asshole, Sherlock." Lestrade declared all of the sudden and hearing his name made Sherlock stop. He had hurried after Lestrade, wanting to know whose grave he was visiting, but now his feet didn´t seem to be moving.

"You are self asorbed git and a cold hearted bastard. You don´t deserve me coming here, you know? You fucking pushed everyone away." Lestrade bellowed and Sherlock had to remind himself with every word, that he wasn´t talking to him but to his gravestone instead.

"Why couldn´t you wait for once in your bloody life time? Instead you had to get yourself killed. Damn it. I´ll be telling you this until the end of my life, cause if you wouldn´t have been such an asshole maybe John wouldn´t have... do you know what he did? I guess he was lost after Mary died but..."

Lestrade was shaking his head, still talking loudly to gravestone which made two men, who were visiting another grave, look at him. Greg didn´t even seem to notice them.

"Anyway, I´m going now. You don´t deserve visitors, and when you were alive you didn´t want to see me anyway. Even got me fired, didn´t you?" He sighed but then rasped on. "So I´ll give your regards to Mrs. Hudson. She she was one of the few who believed you were a good boy, until the very end. I´m glad she didn´t have to see what became of you."

The last words were spat rather then spoken and without another glance Greg Lestrade turned around and hurried away as fast as his drunken state would allow.

Sherlock saw him approaching a headstone about 40 meters away, but didn´t go after him, even though he knew it had to be Mrs. Hudson´s. Instead he finally took the last few steps and looked the gravestone in front of him.

Sherlock Holmes, it said. With a birthday and the date of his death underneath. Nothing else. No beloved wishes or something like that. The grave itself was just plain grass as well, nobody seemed to have cared for it. No single flower, or a small lamp like he had seen on Sally´s. Even though he had thought he wouldn´t care, he found he actually felt weird about it.

He had believed that if everyone else was gone, Mycroft would have cared, because he had to. Obligation as family and all.

He had done so many mean and unspeakable things to Mycroft but yet his brother was still there, wasn´t he?

The men, which had looked at Lestrade weirdly when he put on a show with shouting at Sherlock´s headstone were standing beside him now, shaking their heads. They couldn´t see him, but strangely it still felt to Sherlock as if they were accusing him as they started to talk.

"Ah it´s that guys grave, no wonder he was shouting. Everyone knows he was an asshole. Did you know he got his brother killed and didn´t even go to his funeral?"

The other man nodded.

"Yeah, it was all over the press back when he died. But it´s not liked anyone attended his, is it? You know, it is said he was executed in an empty warehouse. Except nobody found out until 4 months after, cause nobody missed him. Can you imagine nobody missing you?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, while the other man laughed. "Naw can´t. But from what I have heard he deserved all of it. Come on, let´s go, it looks like rain."

The steps of the two men faded, yet Sherlock still hadn´t moved. He felt, rather then saw Moriarty moving beside him.

"So, got anything to share with the class?" he drooled, smirking which seemed to make Sherlock´s spine tingle in a bad way.

"I don´t need anyone." He declared, more to himself than Moriarty. This sentiment was all wrong. It was a waste of time caring for such things like this.

"Ah Sherly, that´s where you were wrong. Everybody just wants somebody to care, even you. And there is no way you can get that out of you. It´s human nature." He smirked and raised his eyebrows playfully. "It makes you so predictable, I´m afraid. Even if you keep ignoring it. Hell even more so. Mycroft was such an easy target I hear."

Sherlock was holding himself back now. He would not let himself down on Moriarty´s level and physically attack him. Then something came to his mind.

"If so, who did you need?" Sherlock inquired and in the next second he understood.

"Oh you know, don´t you?" Moriarty grinned at him like a kid on a fairy ride. He was enjoying this far too much for Sherlock´s tastes.

"So how does it feel to be needed, Sherlock? Did you enjoy being the sole one on earth that I needed to make my life complete? I thought you were a dissapointment though. Far too easy. Yet watching you now, there does seem to be hope. I might have killed myself too early."

There was a flash and the two of them were in Baker Street again. Moriarty seemed surprised. "Hey I wanted him to see how his brother died!"he complained but no one seemed to hear and he did try produce another flash of his own but didn´t succeed.

Sherlock shook his head and then actually laughed. "You know, I get it. Without people like John or I suppose even Lestrade, people like you would be even more annoying and that alone should be enough."

Moriarty huffed at that and wanted to answer, but with a tiny "pff" like sound he was gone.

Now Sherlock smirked. "That and even crimes scenes would be boring after a while." Turning around his eyes fell on the clock. It was close to Midnight, so whatever this had been, it hadn´t even taken an hour.

And yet, something had changed. Maybe he should heed the words he had just heard, as he didn´t want to live without John so soon.

And Mrs. Hudson, he wasn´t ready to be without her either. She kept 221b reasonably clean and her cakes and other food were quite good, if he wasn´t on a case. That and she wasn´t as dumb and sentimental as normal old people.

And even Lestrade could be quite...

Then he remembered.

Damn it Donovan!

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Anyone reading? Please say a peep ;-)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was simply too cold for running, but although Sherlock could feel the cold air hurting his lungs, he didn´t stop. He made sure the experiment wouldn´t explode without him, before he went to John´s room and took his gun from it´s hiding place under the bed. He didn´t like guns all that much, but he figured it would be easier.

Then he got two sets of handcuffs, both stolen from Lestrade during the last case, and hailed a cab.

It had taken him 23 minutes to get close to the bridge of his dream or vision or whatever Donovan had been in and he hoped he wasn´t too late. The sceptic part of him still feared there wouldn´t be anything happening at all, but even then nobody would even know he had gone there.

Also catching the two murderers was what counted.

So if he had the opportunity, he might as well use it. If he did save Sally Donovan´s life in the process, well, that would be a bonus.

He already saw Donovan fighting the two men from afar. It was unbelievlingly stupid how these men were acting so out in the open, where the could be seen by nearly the whole bridge, but then again the streets were deserted.

It was Christmas Eve after all.

Picking up his pace, Sherlock just made it over to them when the second man, who Donovan hadn´t seen at first, was about to hit her windpipe. In the vision, that had been the moment which had taken her breath away and given the other man the opportunity to kill her. But this time the man didn´t get to hit. Instead, said man felt something being aimed at his neck, followed by the click of the safety.

"Two against one isn´t really fair, is it?" Sherlock told them, which left them stunned for a moment. Donovan being quick on the uptake for once, used this short moment and took her elbow to her attackers stomach, before kicking him in the groin. Sherlock winced in sympathy before he hit his man with the gun he was holding and used the man´s resulting dizzyness to cuff him.

He held out the other pair of handcuffs to Donovan who used them instantely. Neither of them said anything when they heard the police sirens and a few seconds later, the actual police men running towards them.

Sally had decided to not come with back up, but Sherlock had called them just when he had gotten out of the cab. He thought this alone should be enough to show her what he thought of that decision.

#

As he left the office at the Yard after having given his statements, he saw Sally standing in the hallway, hands wrapped around a cup of bad Yard coffee, as if she was trying to milk it for warmth. She still kept shivering though, while she continued to stare out of the window.

"So you came to gloat?" she asked, without turning around as he came to stand beside her and Sherlock took a deep breath.

"No."

"Liar." she accused him then, but only half heartedly.

They stood besided each other for a few minutes before Sally began to speak again. "Thank you, though, for saving me. I´d no idea there´d be two." She looked down at the floor and he could tell that she wanted him to be gone.

And normally he´d laugh at her and then he´d leave, but strangely he had no such desires at this moment.

"I didn´t know either." he admitted and Sally all but shot around to look at him. She was surprised, he could tell. And he was surprised he admitted this himself. But it simply felt right.

"Sally?" he asked then, which resulted in an even more surprised face from her. "I need your help."

She huffed and he could tell she thought he was joking. "So what would the high and mighty Holmes need help with?" She teased, but there was not the full bite. It was strange, but there seemed to be no real hate between them tonight. "The spirit of Christmas" his Grandmother would probably say, but he still didn´t believe in it. Such things were humbug. For real this time.

Yet...

"Have you ever cooked a turkey? Or better a full Christmas meal? John is coming home from Harry´s tomorrow and wants to have a party and I thought I could surprise him by preparing some of the food."

Now he was the one who expected to be laughed at, but to his surprise Sally simply smiled. "That should be possible Mr. Holmes." She teased, suprising him even more, and then inquired. "What kind of items do you have at home? You said something about a turkey."

Sherlock hesitated then and it didn´t take a genius to tell what was up.

"So nothing at all?" She asked and received only a nod for an answer.

Sally laughed. And even though she was laughing at him, he couldn´t bring himself to hate the sound, as the cold, dead accusing eyes entered his mind for a second and were shuddered away.

It hasn´t happened he reminds himself. None of this is going to happen.

Sally´s laughter had stopped though and she was looking at him now. "Hey, don´t make such a face. I already have an idea. Come with me."

And with that she offered him her hand and Sherlock took it, the two of them willingly leaving the Yard together for the first time.

#

Later John pretended to not act at all surprised, when he found Sherlock and Donovan together in their kitchen, but Sherlock could tell he was stunned by it. Mrs. Hudson, Greg, Molly, hell even the hastily invited Mycroft and Anthea were in wonder as well, but nobody actually asked them about it that day. They seemed to take it for granted, just like these two had always been friendly with each other and no one made a comment about his aversion of Christmas before.

They didn´t even really inquire how Sherlock had known where to find Donovan and the serial killers. He told them something about having done some research and that seemed to be enough. Lestrade though grumbled at Donovan for going without back up and even John had to say something about that, which made Sherlock smile slightly. Somehow he was glad that his flatmate cared so much.

Not that he would ever admit it, mind.

Everyone simply celebrated and had fun, as if this party wasn't the biggest surprises of them all.

The meal thrown together by some of Donovan´s supplies and hastily bought items at 24h hour places had been delicious. Mrs. Hudson had made marvelous cookies and eggnog. Greg had brought a little gift for everyone and Sherlock for once had been surprised about his book and Greg knowing his love of bees.

The evening became a full success and Sherlock found that this time he quite enjoyed to have his friends celebrating under his roof.

Maybe, just maybe, he could embrace the Christmas spirit after all.

And maybe being friendly with someone was not always a chore.

Sometimes it seemed quite fun actually.

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This was the last chapter- now there´s only the Epilogue left. What do you guys think?


	5. Chapter 5

Olympus97 Sorry the epilogue was already written when you wrote, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Thanks for taking the time to comment.

**Epilogue**

Staring into the barrel of the gun, Sherlock knew it would be over soon. He readied himself for the click, then the bang and the inevitable pain.

Then a shout: "Stop! Police!"

Followed by a shot sounding through the otherwise empty warehouse.

Sherlock had expected a shot to come, but was rather surprised at this one. Instead of facing whatever may or may not come after death, he found himself more or less secure again. His supposed killer was now clutching his bloody hand, the gun discarded on the floor.

Not three meters from him, an out of breath Sally Donovan was holding her slightly swollen belly, cursing at him, gun in the other hand. "Bloody hell, can´t you just wait for once in your bloody life time?"

Behind her two constables were already running for the culprit, securing him, so Sherlock paid him no mind anymore.

Instead he snorted as Sally tried to get him out of the ropes, which were tied around his hands and feet, having a bit of trouble to squat down beside him "Yeah great, that´s a nice thank you for someone who just saved your life. One day you are going to get yourself killed, idiot." She told him, malice tinged voice already gone since months. There was even some genuine concern in her voice now, which made him feel a bit uneasy, so he searched for a bitchy remark.

"Look who´s talking. What do you think Lestrade will say if I get his soon to be wife and his unborn child killed?" He countered, but Sally just huffed and continued to glare at him.

"And John will be very amused when I let his friend get himself killed, thank you very much."

The rope on his hands finally came loose and Sherlock managed to get up. He held his hand out to Sally, who took it and let herself be hoisted up.

"How about we simply don´t tell them?" he suggested, but Sally laughed.

"Yeah right and we found the suspect at an empty warehouse when we were going for a walk? Together? I doubt that works for them." She smiled, though, and turned to walk after the policemen who were leading the suspect towards the warehouse door now.

Sherlock smiled as well. It wouldn´t work and they both would get told off, but he didn´t care. They had caught another murderer for god´s sake. That had to count for something, right?

Also John´s shooting lessons with Donovan sure had paid off. Hitting the attacker in the arm like that had been quite a shot. Then again Donovan had already been good with guns when she started as a cop. Yet she still hated carrying them, even after the special training with John and Mycroft´s men. But maybe that would soften John´s worried ramble a bit? Success as a teacher? He would have to see.

"_You know, it is said he was executed in an empty warehouse. Except nobody found out until 4 months after, cause nobody missed him. Can you imagine nobody missing you?" _

The voice seemed to float around the warehouse and Sherlock could have sworn it to be real, but nobody else seemed to have heard it as they all went on like normal. Instead it had all been a dream, right? And even if, Donovan had just avoided his fate. Just like he avoided hers all those months ago?

He felt a shiver go through him. Had his dreams back then really been premonitions? Or was this just a coincidence?

Would all of this have happened anyway?

Nevertheless he had changed a lot since those bad dreams, hadn´t he? Surely that would mean that nothing like this would happen.

"Sherlock, you all right?" It took him a few seconds until he noticed Sally, now standing right in front of him, looking at him in concern.

He pushed away the dark thoughts. "Yes. Sorry, my mind wandered off for a bit."

Sally´s eyebrows shot up but she didn´t choose to prod any further, as her hands went to her belly instead.

"Whoa."

"You all right? It´s not. .." he started but Sally waved him off and it still felt weird to be concerned about her as well. But mostly feelings like that felt good, though he never would have admitted that to anyone.

"No, I´m not going into labour. It´s just that she started to kick around like crazy. Here come on, feel it!"

Seeing Sherlock hesitate, Sally Donovan, soon to be Lestrade, took his hand and put it onto her now 7 months pregnant belly. And indeed, the unborn little girl seemed to kick even more the moment his hand came down, leaving Sherlock to ponder the miracles of this little life.

And the wonders of his own.

THE END

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So that was it. My little Christmas story. Hope you guys enjoyed it.

I wish everyone a wonderful Christmas!


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